


Tell it to Me Slowly (I Really Want to Know)

by Arsenic



Series: Dickens-verse [44]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV), Leverage, My Chemical Romance, The Magnificent Seven (TV), The Unbeatable Squirrel Girl, White Collar
Genre: Discussions of Past Sexual Abuse, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Other, dickens-verse - Freeform, discussions of child abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-10
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-05-20 18:31:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14899751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arsenic/pseuds/Arsenic
Summary: Everyone else knows they'd make each other happy.  It's Neal and Ezra who are the problem.





	Tell it to Me Slowly (I Really Want to Know)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [therellbepeacewhenyouaredone](https://archiveofourown.org/users/therellbepeacewhenyouaredone/gifts).



> Huge thanks to my beta, ihearttwojacks, all remaining mistakes are because I don't always listen to her.

Gee sent the email with the comic in it on a Tuesday. It was hand-drawn and scanned in. Neal couldn't remember the last time Gee had hand-drawn a strip. He also couldn't remember the last time Gee had made a comic for him when it wasn't a special event.

Neal spent longer than he should have considering the three-panel awkward courting story of two horse-like monsters. Eventually, he responded, "Cute," gave some feedback on the shading, and pretended he didn't understand.

He also couldn't remember the last time he had lied to Gee, even by omission.

*

There were weekly dinners at Gee and Dory's place now that the couple had a kid. Neal and Mikey were always there. Sometimes Peter and Elizabeth would come, and anybody who was loosely defined as family was welcome, but mostly, it was to make sure Gee, Mikey, and Neal had time to just be together, at least once every seven days.

When he came over two nights later, Dory had the door open for Neal before he even reached it. She greeted him with, "Hey Horse Man."

"Squirrel Girl," he said back. Gee had met Dory three years ago, when he'd stumbled on three abandoned baby squirrels next to his front steps and rushed them to the City Wildlife Rescue, where she was the manager. It had been the biggest and most grand case of love at first sight Neal could ever imagine being witness to.

Neal earned his moniker when Dory found out he did occupational therapy with troubled kids at a ranch, and Neal had doubled down on his own nickname for her. She hugged him once he was inside, fierce and warm. She asked casually, "So, Ez is visiting, huh?"

Dory was many things - accepting, funny, disturbingly fond of urban rodents, as big a fan of Gee's art as Neal was, and totally at ease with the Burke brood. One thing she was not, was subtle. Also, not completely aware of all the facts when it came to Neal's history. Gee had never asked Neal if it was all right to share. Neal liked to think he would have said it was fine. Neal liked to think he emotionally understood that Dory wouldn't judge him. But unless Gee asked, Neal didn't have to make that decision. And so Dory remained aware Neal was more fucked up than the average bear, but safely detail-free.

He warned, "Dory."

She shrugged, heading toward the kitchen. "Just asking."

Neal sighed. Nobody in this family ever "just asked" anything. He said, "I'm gonna go hang out with my nephew, who is conveniently unable to speak yet."

Dory snorted, but didn't talk him out of it. Neal went and spent some time letting Antonio—named for Gee and Mikey's father—pull his hair and slobber pretty much everywhere. He said, "Who's my buddy, huh?"

Antonio managed to get a finger up Neal's nose. Neal extracted the digit and said, "Buddies don't pick their buddies noses, kid."

*

Ezra went in the back door of the restaurant and found Faith doing inventory. He said, "Hello there, gorgeous," and kissed her on the cheek. "Your husband making a mess of my kitchen?"

Faith snorted. "Call it your kitchen in front of him, please. Just make sure I'm there to watch."

Ezra smiled in acknowledgement and made his way to the kitchen, where Eliot was plating something, talking in that steady way of his to the newest employee. All of Eliot's hires came from a culinary program that helped kids get off the streets. Occasionally it had meant drug addiction and theft—which was kind of an industry problem, really—but mostly it had meant insanely loyal, fresh talent. Two of them were now heading up kitchens at Ezra's other two locations.

Eliot came over when he was finished with whatever lesson he was teaching and said, "Hey, you're still coming to Parker and Vin's place for dinner before you head out on Friday, yeah?"

"Yes, I am aware of the ritual hazing necessary before my release into the wilds," Ezra said mildly. "May we discuss business, now that I have adequately assured you of your time to hassle me?"

Eliot smiled. "Bet things were easier for you when I was intimidated by how smart you talk."

"You have no idea."

*

Ezra let himself into Parker and Vin's house, glancing up at the sensation of eyes on him. Sure enough, two of the three fosters who'd been living with them for the last month were peering over the railing of the upstairs loft. Ezra tipped an imaginary hat and said, "Finn, Rey."

Rey, who was definitely the boldest, if not the friendliest, of the three, said, "Good evening, Mr. Ezra."

"Just Ezra, Rey," he said, yet again, and continued on into the kitchen. Faith and Eliot were already there, with Poe, the third foster, sitting in Eliot's lap, and coloring at the kitchen island. Parker was discussing creating a kid-friendly climbing curriculum with Faith, who was a part-time jujitsu instructor at a nearby dojo and dealt with younger students fairly regularly.

Ezra peered through the back window, where, sure enough, Vin was manning the grill. Ezra said hi to the three adults in the kitchen, tousled Poe's hair gently—and grinned when the kid didn't freeze up—before stepping out on to the patio. Vin looked up from the fire. "'Bout time."

"Sorry," Ezra said. "Last minute inventory shipping issue."

"All cleared up?"

"Yes. Everything is dealt with as best possible for my travels."

Vin glanced over at him. "Give Buck and Sarah my love. And Chris and Mary."

"Yes, of course. Anything else you wish to bring up?"

"Ez." Vin sighed. "I told them not to bother you over it, that your personal life was your own."

Ezra blinked. He'd gotten so used to interference from…well, everyone in their ever-growing circle of family and family-like friends, it was hard to even process the sentiment. "That was unusually considerate."

"I can't decide if it's that you don't realize we just want you and Neal to be happy, and we all think you'd make each other happy, or if you're just so damn contrary, the thought that it would also make us happy is a bridge too far."

Ezra raised an eyebrow. "And has it occurred to nobody that perhaps Neal is just possessive of me in the same manner he is of all of us?"

"Nope. Probably because it's bullshit, but hey, I'm not the smart one in this friendship."

Ezra stepped back physically and breathed through his nose for a moment. "Davin Tanner Larabee, don't you make this about me thinking less of you. Don't you dare."

Vin pinched the bridge of his nose. "Sorry. That was—that was a shitty thing to say."

Ezra just barely managed to keep himself from agreeing. But he hadn't come here to fight with Vin, and certainly didn't want to leave town with either of them angry at each other. It wasn't Vin's fault that he hadn't been the one to think through what needed to be done in the compound, and it most definitely was not Vin's fault that Ezra had been selfish enough to allow Neal to talk him out of doing it himself. 

Ezra blows out a breath. "You— _even_ if I believed that Neal returned my feelings, there would still be reason for me to consider it better for him to find someone with less shared history."

"Maybe," Vin said softly. "But if you don't want people thinking you're being all high and mighty, maybe you should start by not making their decisions for them."

*

Neal accompanied Buck to pick Ezra up at the airport. Sara would meet them for dinner at the Buck's and her place, once she got out of a meeting that she'd been unable to reschedule, along with pretty much anyone in their group who still lived within a forty-mile radius. It was just par for the course when one of the out-of-town "kids" came back home.

Ezra came out of the secured area with a grin on his face that made Neal want to taste his happiness. Sometimes, these days, Neal wants to touch him so badly it's like cutting off a limb not to. At the same time, Neal wakes up often enough from nightmares of his own touch burying Ezra in blood and muck to keep himself on the straight and narrow. 

Buck had Ezra in a bear hug practically the moment he was over the line. Ezra said, "Hi dad," quietly. 

Buck said, "Hey there, kid," and didn't let go until Ezra said, "I doubt mom will be pleased if they lock us in the airport."

Buck snorted, but let go, and Ezra moved toward Neal for a quick, sturdy hug. Neal made himself not cling. He did say, "Glad you're here."

"Glad to be here. You staying at Peter and El's while I'm here?"

Neal actually hadn't planned on it, had thought it was a better idea to get himself back to his space, where he could paint stuff he'd never show anyone and basically be a complete drama queen when not directly in Ezra's sight. But the Burke house was closer to the Ellis-Wilmington one, and Ezra was asking. Neal wasn't stupid about how stupid he was over Ezra. He knew all it took for him to do something for the other man was the mere indication that it was desired.

"Yeah, 'course."

"Excellent. Let's go see what Peeta's gotten up to in my parent's kitchen, yes?"

"He's been on a crispy duck binge ever since he and Kat went to go visit Nyota in Bangkok."

"Sounds decadent," Ezra laughed.

"He better have made his oatmeal pies, is all I know," Buck said.

Neal smiled as Ezra reassured Buck, "I'm sure he knows it would be a crime against man and nature to deprive you of such."

*

Ezra did his best, on a regular basis, not to think about how much he missed Buck and Sara, Chris and Sarah, and everyone from Mike Specter to Neal himself. It was hard to keep up the pretense, though, when he walked into his house and into a three-way hug, Kat on one side, Finn on another, Jamie squished in between them.

"Well, okay," Peeta called from the direction of the kitchen, "They get first contact, but I made fresh tortellini for you, Ez, so I'm expecting some quality hugging up in here."

"My husband, ladies and gents," Kat murmured into the huddle.

Ezra laughed, too pleased to be in the circle of their arms to even work up much sarcasm. Peeta was in some ways too pure to mock. It was like telling a cat not to be fluffy. From behind them, a voice asked, "You gonna let anyone else in on that action?"

Jamie's wife Joanna was waiting not-so-patiently with 'Kari. Tony and Pepper had come, Elizabeth and Peter, Jen and Sam, Nat and her boyfriend, along with Clint and his husband. Harvey was evidently out of town on a business trip. All the same, it was a full house.

Ezra made his way toward the kitchen, though, catching Peeta from behind and squeezing. "When are you going to let me steal you away for one of my restaurants?"

Peeta scoffed. "You need chefs like Eliot who have school-training and are cutting edge."

"I need chefs who consistently deliver an excellent product and are creative. It's fine, it's fine, I'll just pine from afar."

Peeta laughed. "Oh shut it. There're rosemary croissants on the table. They're pretty good. Kat's sticking by the lavender chocolate ones through thick and thin, but even she admitted that I might be onto something with the rosemary."

Ezra ignored the sudden pressure in his chest at the way Peeta's voice always softened a little when he spoke about Kat. Peeta was dangerous in the way he never hid anything. It was like standing too close to a fire. Ezra was attracted by the heat and comfort of Peeta's courage, but also felt the burn of his own lack in that department.

"Well then, I'm going to go abscond with one for myself, and perhaps set one aside for the mistress of the house, since she should be back shortly."

"You're too much," Peeta said.

"Says the man who probably made the tortellini in part by hand."

"That's how you get a feel for the dough," Peeta said, exasperated. Ezra squeezed him one last time, and went bread-hunting.

*

Mikey wandered onto the back deck after dinner and said, "Thought I'd find you here."

Neal glanced over at him. "Just…needed some space to think."

"Yeah," Mikey said easily, holding out a bottle. Neal took it, taking a sip of the cider Mikey preferred. It was a little sweet for Neal, but there was something calming about sharing things with Mikey, something that made everything feel all right.

Mikey tapped against the rail of the deck. Neal asked, "You okay?"

Mikey laughed. "Was trying to think of a good way to ask you the same thing."

Neal smiled, took another sip, and handed the bottle back to Mikey. "Little tired, maybe."

"Good thing you're staying with mom and dad."

Neal rubbed at the back of his neck. "Yeah."

"Neal?"

Neal shook his head. "Sometimes I feel like I got stuck at seventeen. Like I can't…can't make myself grow past being that scared kid."

 _Like the only thing I'll ever be is that boy who traded himself for the others._ The thing was, Neal didn't regret his decision. It was still among the best he'd ever made. He'd gotten far more out of it than he'd ever given. But he'd never managed to convince himself he could get back the things he _had_ given. And he could never shake the feeling that, without those things, he had less than all of himself to give to someone else. Less than a partner deserved.

Mikey took a sip. "Sometimes I think you're never gonna see how there wasn't ever a time where all you were was a scared kid."

Neal looked over at him. Mikey rolled his eyes. Neal couldn't even really see in the dark of late dusk, he just knew. Mikey said, "It's weird, Neal, how you think _any_ of this," he gestured to the party inside, "would have happened without you. Because, I mean, not to be morbid or anything, but I'm pretty sure, at the very least, Gee and I'd be dead, and probably Ryan and Eliot and Parker, too. At _best_ , in prison for the rest of our lives."

"That's not—" Neal blinked at the stillness of Mikey, the way he seemed to hold tension in every line of his body.

"You can tell yourself whatever the hell you want, Neal. You ask any of us. And I do mean any, fuck, ask _Stiles_ , or one of the others who married in, and they'll tell you. Because Heero sure as shit wouldn't be sane, or grounded, or an MIT graduate working with Stark-funding on developing nanotech in the biology sector, married to a guy who's basically revolutionizing law enforcement software systems, and both of them know it."

Neal rubbed a hand over his eyes. "Nothing is that simple, Mikes. I didn't even want to take Eliot in when Parker found him, you know that. I would have turned out a kid she found in a _cage._ "

Sometimes Neal thought that was why it had needed to be him who'd made the escape play. Because he'd fucking _owed_ Eliot that.

"Nah."

"Nah?" Neal asked incredulously.

"Nah," Mikey repeated, with certainty. "You wouldn't have. Because you didn't. You fussed for about three seconds, and then figured out how to make it work, all of sixteen, starving, and in charge of more kids than the average daycare. So, I love you, you're my brother, but fuck your truly wackadoo self-perception, nah."

Neal blinked again, and Mikey laughed, soft and fond. He said, "Bring it in," and before Neal really knew what was happening, Mikey was hugging him, running his free hand up and down the length of Neal's back. Mikey said, "For once in your life, Neal, believe that you deserve to be as happy and healthy as you've managed to get the rest of us to be. Just once, okay?"

Neal leaned his forehead against Mikey's shoulder. "I'll see what I can do."

*

What Neal did was show up early to his appointment with Sophie the next day, and draw furiously in her waiting room while she finished with her previous client. She ushered him in and said, "Well, don't you look a hot mess."

"Ezra's visiting."

"Ah," Sophie said. It was useful having the same therapist for ten years. If you'd been working on a crush for that long, she'd watched it foment and then spiral completely out of control.

"Mm," Neal agreed.

"Have you spent any time alone with him?"

"Last night was his big welcome home dinner, there were about thirty of us there."

"So, you've been avoiding that stridently, is what I'm hearing."

Neal shook his head, because that was wrong. "I don't avoid Ez. Not even when it would be easier."

"Then how is it you haven't had a moment to yourselves?"

Neal shrugged. "Maybe he wants it that way."

The thought hurt and felt wrong, like he was lying not just to himself, but maybe to someone more important.

Unshockingly, Sophie called him on it. "Neal. We agreed when you were old enough to vote that this only works if you're honest with me."

Neal swallowed. He thought about Ezra's curls, about the way he looked tired, but proud of himself, genuinely proud of what he'd done with his life. "What if I—what if I'm not careful and I tell him how much I wish he'd stay?"

And that—that would be the _worst_. To not only have Ezra pity him for his crush, but that Ezra might stay, because he did things for family when they asked, ridiculous things, all the time. The last thing Neal needed to do was take Ezra's accomplishments away.

"What if?"

"He has a _life._ He has a job, one he's amazingly good at—"

"What if he asked you to go?"

There was a time in his life when Neal wouldn't have done just about anything, just because Ezra asked it of him. But it's been a long time since that was true. "I'd miss Mikey and Gee and El and Peter like a limb. And vid sessions with you will kind of suck."

Sophie smiled. "Spend some time with him, Neal. Just…do both of you a favor."

"A favor," Neal echoed, and went back to sketching out the nightmare of blood and dust he'd woken from that morning.

*

Ezra made breakfast in the morning. Eliot had taught him a thing or two over the years, and he was pretty darn good at farm potatoes, sausage, and eggs. Sara and Buck both decided to go in late to spend some time with him. They chatted about his business, and made casual plans for them to visit him over Thanksgiving. They usually did, but last year Sara had been on a case that had made it impossible to get away, so they were booking everything super early this time, and hoping it would ward off that kind of bad luck again.

Buck said, "I'm driving your mom into work so you can have the car."

Ezra blinked. "I was just going to—"

"Drive up and see Neal. Maybe go for a ride when he's done with his patients." Sara kissed the top of his head. "That's what we thought."

"You're terrible people and devious parents," Ezra told them mildly, sighing. 

"Only for you, kiddo," Buck agreed with a smile. "Only for you."

*

Neal was leaning over, picking one of the horse's hooves out, when Ezra came into the barn. Since Ezra was only human, and a weak, weak human at that, he took a moment to appreciate the view. Then, not wanting to startle Neal or the horse, he waited until Neal set the hoof down to ask, "Have time for a ride?"

Neal turned around and smiled. Ezra's traitor heart actually skipped a beat, like some dumb, malfunctioning machine. Neal said, "Hey, no, not yet, sorry, but if you come back at noon with food that'll travel we can ride down to the gulch area and picnic."

Noon was only an hour off, so Ezra headed back to the nearest town where there was a combination pizza/sandwich place—and not much else—and got a couple of sandwiches, some chips, drinks, a cookie and a brownie. He stuck his loot in the backpack he'd brought, alongside the water he had for riding. When he got back, Neal was kneeling in front of a gangly African-American boy with close-cropped hair and a posture that read "don't notice me" in glaring capital letters. He was listening to Neal, though, intent on whatever he was saying, nodding along.

After a bit, the kid accepted a high five from Nea, then headed over to where a woman who looked like she could be either his mom or older sister was waiting next to a Volvo. She waved at Neal, who waved back, and then turned his attention to Ezra. Ezra hefted the backpack and Neal flashed a thumbs up before walking toward the barns. Ezra followed after him.

Neal took a quarter horse who hadn't been there the last time Ezra visited. She was a spirited little thing, and Ezra was willing to bet she wasn't allowed anywhere near the kids just yet. Neal called her Bonny. Ezra saddled the American Paint he liked named Splish Splash. They didn’t talk much on the ride out, cantering for most of it.

When they arrived at their intended spot, Neal took a horse blanket out of his saddle bag and shook it out, laying it on the ground. Ezra brought the backpack and distributed the food evenly. Neal unwrapped his sandwich, and upon discovering Ezra had brought him roast beef with white cheddar, spicy mustard, and onion strings on rye, said, "Oh Jesus, I love you."

Ezra laughed it off. "Yes, my ability to remember culinary preferences has indeed brought me much affection over the years."

Neal took a bite and looked away. Ezra waited for the moment to pass, his stomach twisting with the need to reach out and touch Neal, reach out and _kiss_ Neal, reach out and take what didn’t and shouldn't belong to him. When the moment lingered, he asked, "Neal?"

Neal set the sandwich down on its wrapper and took his phone off the holster he kept it in during work hours. He thumbed it on and then flipped through to something, handing it over to Ezra. "Gee sent me this before you came. Sophie thinks maybe I was the wrong recipient."

Ezra stared at the cartoon panels for enough time that the screen went dark. Eventually, he forced himself to ask, "And you? Do you think it was sent to the wrong person?"

Every muscle in Neal's body was strung tight. Ezra wanted to touch him, but was almost afraid it would cause something to snap. Neal said, "I think…I—" Even Neal's swallow sounded painful. "I think you deserve someone who hasn't consistently used his body as a bargaining chip. Someone who—"

"No, stop. You—you _stop._ " It had been a long time since Ezra had been so angry, so off-balance as to lose words. He didn’t like the feeling now anymore than he had the last time. "That's why you've—" Ezra shut his mouth, a little afraid of what might come out of it if he didn't. He took a breath through his nose and looked up at the sky, seeking the sense of freedom being out in the open usually gave him. When he could, he asked, "And what if I were to say you deserved someone who hadn't let you take that bullet for him?"

Neal glanced up at that, blinking. "What? Ez, that's not what happened."

"Bullshit, Neal. I let you tell me I was more valuable than you. I let you say words to me that I'd always wanted to hear, and put up no more than a token resistance to you sacrificing the very last part of you _left_ to sacrifice for the rest of us."

Neal recoiled a little at that, and Ezra went over what he'd said in his head. "No, not like that. I'm not saying there's nothing of you left. I'm saying that you've never kept anything for yourself when you could give it up or over for one of us. I'm saying you're so pure, straight through, that it's—"

"Kiss me," Neal said. It was quiet, so much so that Ezra nearly didn't hear over the wind and the sound of his own words, but he did.

"Neal—"

"You say I never keep anything for myself, like I never want anything, like I never ask, but I'm asking, Ez. I'm asking. And you don't have to answer. That's…that will be enough and I will understand and never ask again, but—"

Ezra had his mouth on Neal's before he could finish the sentence. He wasn't taking any chances on what the end of it might be. He kept it light. He wasn't exactly a font of experience himself. Sure, there'd been some casual stress-relief here and there in college and business school, but any time someone had tried for something more serious, the girl or guy had figured out Ezra's heart was elsewhere fairly quickly. He knew better than to think it could be easy, natural, with Neal, but he was certain it could be _fun_ for them to stumble their way through these things together.

Neal's hands came up to his hair, burying themselves there. He didn't pull, just held on. Ezra shifted, and they rolled into the grass, Ezra bringing his hands to untuck Neal's shirt so he could touch the skin of his back. Neal's mouth opened at the touch and Ezra flicked his tongue against Neal's, and after that, there was no real technique, just the two of them, close and warm, sloppy and untutored.

When both of them were breathless, and Ezra's hair was no doubt full of twigs, Neal pulled away and groaned. "I have more clients today."

"Dinner at eight?" Ezra asked. "I've a contact in the city at a place neither of us would be able to afford."

Neal smiled a little. "Like a date?"

"Exactly in that fashion, yes."

"Pick me up at El and Peter's?"

"Seven fifteen sharp, young man."

Neal snorted. "I'm older than you."

"Probably," Ezra agreed easily. He levered himself up on his elbows and placed a kiss at the corner of Neal's mouth. "One for the road."

*

The panic hit Neal on the ride home, so that by the time he walked into El and Peter's place he was five seconds from calling Ezra and cancelling, and three from having a panic attack. Instead, he walked into the living room, where Peter and El were watching the six o'clock news, probably waiting for him to come home and help with dinner. He sat down on the floor and hugged his knees to himself. Peter flicked off the television and said, "Neal?"

Neal rocked for a moment and then said, "I can't stay for dinner."

"Okay," El said slowly. "Can I ask why?"

Neal squeezed his legs tightly enough to hurt. "Ez and I—he kissed me. I mean, no, well, yes, but I _asked_ him to, and then I needed to go back and, um, there's a date. I mean, I have a date. With Ez."

Peter and El looked at each other. There was a beat, and then El got up and came to sit by him, crowding into his space. She said, "I need you to give me something here, kid, because I don't know how to help."

"It's good, right?" Neal thought he should make himself sit on his own, not burrow into her. He physically couldn't seem to make himself. "Everybody said we should, so it's…I mean. I'm not going to want too much. Take too much. From him." 

He knew the last came out more as a question than a statement. Peter said, "Neal," quietly. 

Elizabeth pulled him into her. "Neal, I've known you over a decade now and I've never seen you take more than you've given. Ezra's pretty damn sturdy, but even if he wasn't, you couldn't do anything but make his life better. You've done that since the two of you met, I don't know why you think it'd change now."

Neal swallowed and said something he'd never talked about aloud. He'd done drawing exercises with Sophie that had touched on the issue, and they'd certainly worked around it. He'd just never been able to actually say this. Ezra was on the line, now, and that—that changed a lot. "In—in the cages, when I."

His throat locked up, and it took several seconds to loosen it enough to continue. "When I seduced the guard. I kept thinking, I was so scared I wouldn't be enough. The con wouldn't work because I was just a kid, and didn't really know what the hell I was doing, and then we wouldn't get out and it would be—it would be on me."

El opened her mouth. Neal shook his head. "I know that's not true, now. I don't always understand it, but I know it. The problem with not always understanding it is that sometimes that feeling is there whenever things matter the most. I got you to take us in, and I got us out of the cages, and I—what if that's the extent of my skill? My luck?"

"Baby," El said. "Baby, please believe me when I say that only a small, small portion of any of that was luck, and the reason I know you'll succeed is because it _is_ important to you. You're tenacious with those things. It's not skill, Neal, so much as the ability to work for what you want. And once the initial chemistry is there, that's most of what keeping a relationship going is, just working with the other person. You can do that with Ezra. You can do that with _anyone_ , but I think Ezra is sometimes easier for you. The two of you get each other." 

She pulled back a little, so as to look at Neal. "That's why everyone wanted this, babe. Not because we thought it would be fun or convenient or right or whatever. But because we all thought—think—that the two of you provide some ease for each other. And you both deserve it. Both of you."

Neal kept his eyes on hers, matching his breathing to hers like Sophie had taught him to do in those first few months, when even breathing was constantly a challenge, something to be relearned. Finally he said, "I didn't bring anything nice to wear."

Peter barked a laugh. When Neal looked up, though, his eyes were shiny, and he didn't look amused so much as relieved. "I've got some Oxfords that you'll fit into, and Brendan and Ryan are always leaving ties. We can figure something out."

Neal nodded. "In a minute, then." He wasn't ready to pull himself away from El.

She murmured, "Yeah, in a minute."

*

Ezra was considering a fifth shirt—he'd only packed four, he'd gone on a shopping spree that afternoon in a flurry of panic—when Sara knocked on the door and called, "Ez? You okay?"

"No," Ezra said before he could even think about it. It was true, though. Nothing was okay.

Sara poked her head in the room. "Ez—" She blinked. "That's awful sophisticated for an evening at home with me and your dad."

"I told Neal I was going to take him to the restaurant in the city that one of Eliot's mentees is a sous-chef at now." He did not use the word date.

Sara paused for a moment, then came to sit down on his bed. She glanced at the relative graveyard of shirts, and fished out a hunter green v-neck. "Unless the place has a collar requirement, this one."

Ezra looked at the shirt and his last remaining strand of calm snapped. "I cannot do this. I cannot—"

"You can, Ezra. You can," she said quietly. "Because all he wants is you. You're enough. You're more than enough. For him, for me, for Buck, for Vin, for anyone whose orbit you knock into."

"You can't know that." Ezra swallowed and it felt sharp, like strep, or dehydration.

"Ez, look at me." Sara waited until he followed her instruction. "I know. I'm a seasoned FBI investigative agent, you're my son, he's been one of your best friends for almost the entire time I've known you, and his parents are some of my closest friends. I know this like I know how your dad takes his coffee, the backroads to the office, how to tell time."

Ezra's knees went a little weak, and he found himself folding to the floor, his head going to her lap without him knowing that was the plan. She cupped her hand over his curls. "You're so impossibly brave for everyone else, Ez. Just this once, be brave for yourself, okay? And if you can't, if that's too much, be brave for me. Because I think this could make you happy, and you have no idea what it is to see that your kid has the opportunity for happiness, and to think he might not take the chance at it."

Quietly he thought, _love you_ , thought _I wasn't brave when it mattered _, thought, _but as reasons go to be brave now, that is a good one.___

____

*

Ezra rang the doorbell to the Burke's at 7:12 and did not freak out when Peter answered the door, since that would be ridiculous. Peter had never been anything but encouraging and kind to Ezra. He just…chose not to walk into their house without an invitation, was all.

Peter cocked his head and said, "I'd offer you a drink if you weren't the one driving. You look like you could use it."

Ezra was _raised_ to lie, to never show vulnerability. It should be easy, but all he could do was try to breathe and say, "I'll have him back by curfew, promise."

It was a weak joke, but it was a joke, it was something. It was an outward show of courage. Softly, Peter said, "C'mere, Ez."

Peter stepped back into the house, and Ezra followed him. Peter stopped short, though, and pulled Ezra into a hug, rubbing at his lower back. "Try and have fun, okay?"

"I shall do my utmost," Ezra told him.

"Okay. He's just finishing with his hair. You know how he is with that." Peter let Ezra go. 

From behind Peter, Neal said, "Haha, dad, hilarious."

Ezra looked behind Peter, and there Neal was, gorgeous and clearly as terrified as Ezra and perfect. Ezra couldn't help smiling. "Hello there, handsome. How about you let me buy you dinner?"

The look of fondness in Neal's eyes was utterly helpless, too sweet to be anything but real. "Sounds like you know how to treat a guy right."

Ezra laughed, and held the door open for Neal.

*

The restaurant was all reclaimed wood and fancy lighting. Ezra's friend looked to be around their age. She was Pakistani-American and maybe four foot eleven. Maybe. Ezra said, "Dunya, this is Neal, Neal, Dunya. She apprenticed under Eliot."

"Give him and Faith my love," Dunya said, shaking Neal's hand.

"They are more likely to reciprocate should you send me back carrying a few of your curry empanadas, but I shall certainly convey the message."

Dunya rolled her eyes. "Asshole. Go sit down, I told the kitchen you guys were doing a tasting menu, so we've got you covered."

When they were seated, Ezra placed his feet gently atop Neal's, which made Neal smile down at the table. "You know you probably don't have to romance me, right?"

"Do not have to, I suppose not," Ezra said softly. "Want to? Since we were little more than children."

"Ez."

"Neal," Ezra said, smiling. "I introduced you to a friend, am showing you my world: business and food. You rode with me, introduced me to your horses. Now tell me something else, anything else. Tell me about the time you spend with Gee, Dory, and Mikey, or what your art is looking like these days. Tell me if your nightmares have gotten better, if you still want to go to Italy more than anywhere in the world. Just…talk to me. We've always known how to talk to each other."

And just like that, Neal remembered it was true. There was nobody he could talk to quite like Ezra. Ezra had seen his worst, and not only had he not looked away, he'd offered Neal a hand back to his feet. Neal smiles. "Gee's gotten me to work on some more quirky stuff. I spent all of last Sunday sketching Dory's squirrels and raccoons and rats. It was…fun, mostly. Sometimes I forget that art can be art just to, you know, be art. It doesn't always have to be about Sophie and me figuring out what's going on in my head, or me trying to be an _artiste_ or, well, anything, really."

"I'd like to see those sketches."

Neal tilted his head. "They're just sketches of rodents."

"By you," Ezra said. "And I would like to see them."

Neal caught a panicked breath, because this was Ezra, and it didn't matter how much Neal loved him, he wasn't going to leave Neal. He hadn't, and he wouldn't. He smirked. "I mean, it's a little further, but you could come back to my place and see my etchings, I guess."

Ezra blinked, then laughed. "You suppose, do you?"

Neal's smirk broadened into a grin. "I very much suppose."

*

Neal's place was a good hour outside the city, closer to the stables than El and Peter's place. Ezra had been before, of course, but it had been a while. There was more of Gee's art up now, the pictures from Gee and Dory's wedding, Antonio's baby pictures, art Nyota had sent him from around the world, letters from kids he'd helped, the announcement of the opening of Ezra's second restaurant. It was a one-bedroom apartment that had more people inhabiting it than most states in the nation.

Ezra loved it. It was like looking at Neal underneath his skin and discovering he was just more gorgeous. It occurred to Ezra that he'd also been brought up to steal. And even if he knew it was wrong, he was going to do it in this case, he was going to steal Neal, and make sure nobody ever knew he'd gotten away with a crime.

Neal asked, "Do you, uh, want some water?"

"I want to kiss you," Ezra told him, because whatever else, he hadn't forgotten the way Neal had referred to himself as a bargaining chip, as something bought and sold and somehow used up. Ezra didn't steal anything that wasn't highly valuable. Not worth the effort.

"Yeah," Neal said, "that's, um, we should do that."

Ezra was careful not to smirk at Neal's sincerity. The last thing he wanted Neal to think was that he wasn't perfection. It was just so awfully endearing. "Yes."

He reached out and grabbed Neal's hand, pulled Neal into him. Ezra said, "You're exquisite," which made Neal laugh, small and uncertain and real.

Neal fisted his free hand in Ezra's shirt and murmured, "Ez."

"Mm?"

"You're—I want. I _want_."

"Take everything, darling," Ezra told him, even as he pressed his lips to Neal's, brought his free hand to Neal's neck, breathed into his mouth.

Neal opened up, taking him in.

*

Neal woke up wrapped around Ezra, both of them still fully dressed, minus their shoes. Neal didn't remember taking his off, but it was possible Ezra had taken care of that. They'd fallen asleep kissing lazily and talking about when Neal could take time off to come up to see Ezra. He hadn't said, "maybe job hunt, a little," but he'd thought it. Ezra ran his own business, but Neal could do riding-based occupational therapy anywhere he had access to horses, and New Hampshire wasn't some kind of urban mechanized landscape with no room for wildlife.

The thought of being so far from Gee, Mikey, El, and Peter was something he didn't want to poke too hard at just yet, but he knew he was going to have to. It didn't scare him as much as he thought it should, which was only just now making him realize how much he never thought he'd get to have this, have _Ezra._

He allowed himself to spend a few moments sinking into the sensation of having this, the sun working its way into the sky, Ezra, as always, fighting against the oncoming of the day, but this time with Neal there, able to kiss at his jaw and say, "Stay here, babe. I'll make coffee."

"They will write poems in epic longform describing my love for you," Ezra mumbled.

Neal laughed and forced himself to roll away, to stop touching. "More like you will. I say as an ex-professional of the con, nobody uses words quite the way you do."

Ezra opened his eyes at that, mostly to stare at Neal from under half-masted lids. "Brings the only boy I've ever cared to have to the yard, though, does it not?

Neal rolled his eyes, but agreed. "It does."

*

Thursday, the day Ezra was headed back, came all too soon. He would have extended his stay, but there had already been three calls from the management team at the newer of the restaurants, needing help putting out fires. Amazingly, not literal ones, but Ezra didn't want to test his luck. Even so, it was tempting to just say to hell with it, and stay another week.

Buck and Sara said goodbye to him in the morning, allowing Neal to take Ezra to the airport on his own. The drive was quiet, not in an awkward way, but unquestionably bittersweet. Neal turned the radio on at one point, to the old-school country Ezra liked, Patsy Cline lamenting one love affair or another.

Neal said, "Call me when you get in, okay?"

"Proof of life?" Ezra asked with a smile.

"Or just, I'll already miss you by then."

"Every minute of every day, Neal Burke. I cannot recall a time when that was not true for me."

"No," Neal said quietly. "Me neither."

When they reached the airport, Neal parked and came inside with Ezra, walking him all the way to security. Once there was nowhere further to go, Ezra leaned his forehead to Neal's, burying his hand in the thick hair on the back of Neal's head. "We shall figure this out. Two reasonably intelligent fellows such as ourselves."

"I know," Neal said, and he did. Sometimes knowing something about the future didn't make the present any easier to handle. "I know. I love you."

"Always have and always will," Ezra responded, ducking in for a last kiss.

"Travel safe," Neal said, their lips still touching.

Ezra smiled, just a touch. "Promise."


End file.
